


Home At Last

by dr_zook



Category: Lost Souls - Poppy Z. Brite
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, i just felt the need for bottom!Steve, liminal spaces, no really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 14:32:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8894344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dr_zook/pseuds/dr_zook
Summary: They have felt up each other everywhere before: teenaged rutting against the graveyard portal. Hurried hand-jobs in the Yew's restroom. Dope-fueled, endless french kisses in the T-bird, of course. 
But one day Ghost says, "When I take you I don't want it somewhere between, Steve. When I open you up for me it will be at home."





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theskywasblue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theskywasblue/gifts).



> Merry Christmas, dear! I just wanted to uplift your Holidays. Wallowing in plotless explicitness can do wonders when caged with crazy family. :D
> 
> Alas, I noticed a serious lack of serious boning between Ghost and Steve, so I wanted to correct that. I hope you're appreciating it as well. :3 Thanks to liriaen for their speed-beta (sorry for the nosebleeding at work, love).

They have felt up each other everywhere before: teenaged rutting against the graveyard portal. Hurried hand-jobs in the Yew's restroom. Dope-fueled, endless french kisses in the T-bird, of course.  

But one day Ghost says, "When I take you I don't want it somewhere _between_ , Steve. When I open you up for me it will be _at home_."  

And Steve's entire blood rushes to both his ears and his dick. His reaction summons this very special smile on Ghost's lips, which dries out Steve's mouth.  

"Alright," he breathes. "At home it is."

.:. 

A laugh bubbles up Steve's throat, because this would be the moment he understood that he could never have found this with any other one. Not with Ann, not with former or future girlfriends.  

Hell, most definitely never, ever with other guys.  

Ghost smiles down at him through a haze and sweat pools between his clavicles. He pushes into Steve, driving him deeper into the cushions, chasing their breath when he leans down to put his forehead against Steve's.  

"Fuck," Steve wheezes, the laugh dying. He tries to unclench his teeth, tries to unclench every other muscles, especially those clamped around Ghost's dick.  

The tip of Ghost's tongue sticks out from between his lips, his eyes are half-closed, but focused on Steve below. One of his arms is now propped up beside Steve's head, the other one idly strokes his hitched-up leg.  

"You're so good," Ghost murmurs. The ends of his hair brush against Steve's nipples, who feels turned on like never before in his sodden life. His whole skin brims with sensation, each of Ghost breaths hitting it cause little fireworks to lighten up his brains.  

Steve groans, he doesn't know how long he can keep his voice down. His mouth finds Ghost's hand next to his face, his lips searching for any, for every possible contact.  

Ghost had tried to maintain a slow rhythm, but maybe the damp panting, seasoned with uncontrolled bites was becoming too much. He closes his eyes, leans back, unfolds the body beneath him and strokes Steve's flanks; his dick has almost slipped out of Steve, who can feel the very tip of it still inside.

  He clamps around it. "Hey," he gasps. _Don't leave._ "Don't-- please--" His hands grabble for some part of Ghost's body, his ass tries to wriggle closer towards him. His ankles lock behind Ghost's back.

  "I'm not going anywhere," Ghost declares, both his hands gliding towards Steve's crotch. First they stroke the inside of his thighs, down and up again. Then they glide over his dick, up towards the tip and down again, spreading dampness over it.

Steve has to bite into the flesh of his thumb, but groans muffled: "Fuck, please--"  

Then Ghost's hands dive below Steve, grab both his cheeks, and fucking _lift_ him, fucking spread him wider, drag him closer, and fucking push back _home_. The sweaty sheets are clinging to Steve's back as he cries out, breath stumbling out of his lungs.  

He's goose-bumpy all-over, he can feel it. His nerve endings are on fire, Ghost is alive inside of him. _Inside_. Oh, God.  

"Steve," Ghost pants, the words downed by the rhythm he's pleasuring them both with, "Steve-- you okay?" His pupils have expanded, darkening his gaze. His delicate fingers crawl up to cup Steve's cheeks, swiping away moistness.  

Steve nods frantically, unable to say more. His arms are spread out like he's been shot down.  

"So good," Ghost says, voice tinged with awe. "Just like I knew you would be." Then his index finger hovers over Steve's mouth, long enough to be sucked inside.  

 _Inside_.

Steve moans, his tongue wraps around the finger, tasting salt and musk. Ghost moans as well, eyes growing bigger. His other hand holds onto Steve's hip, grabbing him tight, concentration furrows his brow.

  "Can't let you go," Ghost gasps. "Won't. Ever." He's rubbing against that spot inside of Steve making his toes tingle and sweat break out at the back of his neck.  

Steve gently takes the finger between his teeth. "Fuck, never," Steve whispers around it. And: "God." Because surely there has to be something, right? With this unearthly creature hovering above him, taking their place everywhere inside of Steve. Their _righteous_ place. "Ghost," he pleads, his voice has become hoarse. "I-- I think I'm close."

  A small laugh slips from Ghost's lips. "Yes, we are," he grins, and strokes with his saliva-coated hand across Steve's throat. The other scrambles towards his leaking dick, caresses the dark, coarse hair at its base, and when he wraps it around Steve's flesh, it's like all wires suddenly connect the right way.  

Something shatters within him and he is starting to weep, because his senses are royally overloaded. It takes Ghost only two, three twists of his sleek wrist to undo Steve completely.

  "Oh," Ghost whispers enthralled as he looks down between them and watches the come spreading over Steve's belly. His own pale fingers reluctantly let go of the spent dick-- only to grab Steve at the hips and fuck him in earnest.

  Steve can't stop groaning. It's still making love, he feels it. But their edges are raw, Ghost is going to leave bruises. Steve's forearms cross over his face, he hasn't stop weeping.

  "Steve," Ghost growls now. "Steve, love--" He grabs his arms, shoves them apart to lean down closer. "Let me see."  

Steve drags him down by the neck, his trembling fingers guide him closer. "Yours," he whispers against Ghost's lips, despite sounding cheesy, but oh fuck-- he doesn't care, it's the naked truth. "I'm yours."  

He feels Ghost's smile, and then his head abruptly rises, throwing back long strands of pale hair, and the sound coming from his throat reminds Steve of a shot deer; he feels Ghost pulse inside, still pounding relentlessly, and his fingers are gripping Steve's arms tightly. _More bruises, good,_ he thinks.  

Ghost's voice quickly grows into an unbelieving chuckle as he collapses across Steve. He can feel their hearts hammering against their ribcages: they can't stand this separation anymore, it's obvious.  

Steve fondly strokes Ghost's sweaty hair, both trying to calm their breathing. He hisses when Ghost re-arranges himself, slipping out of him, their legs tangling with perspiration slowly drying on their skin. He can feel drops of his seed trickle on the bedding.  

It feels good. He feels _good_.

  He feels truly at home at last.


End file.
